


Luminous

by Guanin



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Character, Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Divine Lovemaking, M/M, Other, Sensuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-29 18:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20086777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guanin/pseuds/Guanin
Summary: The air pulsed between them, their spirits shimmering on their mortal skins, divine light and demonic fire, seeking each other as they prepared themselves. Molting their wings with another was one of the most intimate activities that angels and demons engaged in. It created a bond that could not be easily severed. The first time that Aziraphale and Crowley had done this, their skins had tingled every time that they were near each other, the contentment of their recent union emanating from their breasts much as it did now.





	Luminous

The pale light of dawn shone in the horizon, dying the once pitch black sky a dark blue, which lightened in increments as Crowley strolled up the hill. A chilly breeze would have bit into his skin if he were human. As it was, it only swept his long hair against his face and snatched a few loose feathers from his wings. His molting was almost over. Like the mortal birds, angels shifted their feathers once a year, shedding the old, damaged ones for a new assortment. Only a few sorry specimens clung to Crowley’s wing bones, and they would be gone soon. Dry grass crunched under his feet. Winter had come early, sapping the land of warmth and moisture, shrinking the once lush meadow into a sad field of brown. It was fitting that the molt should occur when everything on Earth withered in its winter hibernation. His wings looked just as depressing as the ground he stepped on, yet soon they would shift into the brightness of spring, which wouldn’t come here for a long while yet. 

“You’re looking rather tawdry, my dear.”

Crowley turned at Aziraphale’s voice. He must have miracled himself behind him, for he couldn’t have possibly flown here, not with only a few feathers clinging to his stumpy wings. Those few that did were grey and torn from too much use. Crowley raised a brow at Aziraphale’s comment.

“You’re not looking too pretty yourself,” he said. “You’ve put it off too long.”

Of course, everything else about Aziraphale did look pretty. His cream-colored suit was perfectly tailored to his body, gold embroidery adorning the lapels and sleeves and down the sides of his breeches to his knees. His stockings were a brilliant white, complementing his silver-toned shoes, which belonged on a clean marble floor, not the outdoors. Like so often these days, Crowley was caught between wishing to continue to admire the beautiful picture that Aziraphale made and wishing that he could tug his cravat just a little bit down and kiss the soft skin of his throat.

“Shall we get to it, then?” Crowley asked, pushing such indulgent fantasies away. 

“We should,” Aziraphale said, frowning in displeasure at the sorry state of his wings. “I wince every time I look at myself.”

He stood in front of Crowley at the top of the hill. The height wasn’t necessary. They could do this anywhere, even in a tiny, little closet if need be, but they both enjoyed the view of the rolling hills spilling out around them in gently wooded green, the deep azure of the sky lightening with every breath, the first sunrays beginning to peak over the crest of the neighboring hill. And being outside always helped. The open air wasn’t likely to catch fire, for one. Eyes meeting, they both inhaled deeply, synchronizing their breaths. The air pulsed between them, their spirits shimmering on their mortal skins, divine light and demonic fire, seeking each other as they prepared themselves. Molting with another was one of the most intimate activities that angels and demons engaged in. It created a bond that could not be easily severed. The first time that Aziraphale and Crowley had done this, their skins had tingled every time that they were near each other, the contentment of their recent union emanating from their breasts much as it did now.

Aziraphale held out his hands in front of him, palms up. Crowley took his hands, curling his fingers around his wrists and thumbs, while Aziraphale did the same. Celestial warmth pulsed in his body, already summoned for the ritual they were about to perform. Crowley’s skin, in turn, burned, fire barely held back in his bones. The first time they did this, he’d worried about hurting Aziraphale. It wasn’t hellfire, so it wouldn’t cause any permanent damage, but it could still hurt. Yet Aziraphale had taken his hands nonetheless and held on, insisting that he suffered no discomfort from touching him. 

Crowley watched him now as he had then, but he no longer feared harming him. Anticipation trembled inside them both as they stretched out their wings to the sky and breathed. In an instant, Crowley’s wings caught fire and Aziraphale’s shone with incandescent light. Their twin energies rose in the air, searing their wings to the bone, shaking their bodies, stealing their breaths. They leaned towards each other, automatic, losing track of each other’s gazes as they shivered, ecstasy blooming inside them as they fell into each other, foreheads meeting, their fire and light swelling so brilliantly that it hurt to look at it. Their wings moved forward, seeking each other, but they mustn’t touch yet. They would burn each other if they did. Aziraphale’s angelic energy agonized and enthralled Crowley in the same ecstatic instant. Crowley had felt this pure light once, in heaven, before his spirit was broken and remade from the inside out. Aziraphale moaned, shaking, clinging to Crowley’s hands, leaning into Crowley’s fire as strongly as he could. Without letting go of his hand, Crowley pressed against his chest, holding him back from touching his scorching wings. He groaned, growing weak, lips brushing Aziraphale’s cheek, finding comfort in the softness of his skin, which shone like the most luminous star in the firmament.

It ended as suddenly as it had begun. Their fire and light went out as if doused by a sudden wave, leaving pristine black and white feathers in their wake. Aziraphale and Crowley had been restored. Panting, they pushed back, blinking at each other. They kept their hands entwined as they flexed their wings, testing their suppleness even though there was no need to. It wasn’t for themselves that they did this, but each other. Joyful smiles danced on each other’s lips as they admired the other’s beauty. Every color shimmered in the radiant white of Aziraphale’s wings. Crowley could study them for the rest of eternity and consider himself blessed. Aziraphale reached for Crowley’s wings with equal admiration, touching them with the gentlest of fingers and his own wings, which no longer burned with divine light. Crowley leaned closer, brushing Aziraphale’s wings with his own, gazing in awe at the interplay of light and dark. 

He gave Aziraphale’s left hand a final squeeze before letting go, almost giving into his urge to cradle Aziraphale’s face and press their foreheads together again, but the moment had cooled. They were in the limelight now, the sought for union of their wings the final step before they parted and Aziraphale silently promised himself that this was the closest that he would allow Crowley to get to him. Only when ending their molt did he grant them such intimacy. Once a year they gave themselves to each other, all barriers down, no fussing over the angel-demon divide, only for this brief moment. Then Aziraphale put his walls back up and Crowley bowed to his need to keep him at a distance. 

Aziraphale stepped back first. He always did. Crowley could never summon the strength to do so himself. An unspoken apology simmered in Aziraphale’s face as he did so.

“You look lovely, my dear,” he said, smiling to soften the sting of his retreat.

Crowley smiled back, following his lead like always. 

“You, too.”

As they turned to go back down the hill, Aziraphale commented on the weather, of all things, eager to leave what they had just done behind before he lost all inhibition and grasped Crowley again. Crowley played along, content with their casual conversation, even as the joy of Aziraphale’s touch continued to thrum through his soul like a ray of sunlight on a grateful leaf. 

One turn of the Earth around the sun and they would be back here. Crowley was patient. He could wait until the end of the world if need be.


End file.
